by Glenda Barrett
*another member of the Mule family, we’re so glad Glenda’s part of our homecoming issue.

It happened during one night in the dead of winter. Grandma, a light sleeper was awakened by a strange sound. She shook Grandpa who was sleeping soundly and whispered Adam, get up, there’s someone in the house. It sounds like they are in the living room. Grandpa still groggy, but getting the gist of her words, jumped up, and reached for his 22 rifle sitting next to the bed. Grandma, not wanting to go, but afraid of being left behind, lit the oil lamp and crept along beside him. The old floor creaked as they inched along not knowing what they’d face when they got down the long hall to the living room.

Grandma thought of her baby chickens she had in a box near the fireplace because the temperature had dropped into the teens yesterday. She didn’t want her chickens stole because she would need them for food in a few months when they grew into fryer size. Knowing Grandpa wasn’t afraid of anything, Grandma whispered before they got near the living room. Now, Adam you better be careful!

By the time they got to the door going into the living room, the noise was getting louder. Grandma held the lamp up so they could see what was causing the disturbance. As soon as they spotted the intruder, Grandma said in a loud voice, Adam, don’t shoot!

Please don’t shoot! Whatever you do, don’t kill it in here! She had a good reason for saying that because the intruder was standing near her box of chickens. And she had a good reason to beg my Grandpa not to shoot. It wasn’t a human being but a skunk. Grandma was just about to say, If you shoot that skunk in the living room, it will be an awful mess! Before she could get the words out, Grandpa fired the gun leaving a dead skunk laying in the corner of the room.

Now this was almost worse than the scare. All of a sudden the scent permeated all the house. The cold didn’t seem to matter as much now as it had earlier that day. They opened windows and doors hoping for a good breeze. They had to have some relief from the scent. It was so bad they could hardly stand it.

The ironic part was, Grandma was an excellent housekeeper and this incident just about got the best of her for she cleaned and cleaned the wood floor trying to rid it of the scent. She used Clorox and every other cleaning supply she could think of. She asked all the neighbors what they recommended. It seemed there was only one real solution and that was time. The scent lingered for days even with Grandma airing out the house every chance she could and scrubbing regularly.

I’m sad to say my grandparents are no longer living, and the house is no longer standing, but as I tell this story I can still remember the spot in the corner of Grandma’s living room that had been scrubbed so much, it was a shade lighter than the rest of the floor. That would always be one story Grandma told her grandchildren with evidence to prove it.